


Happy Birthday, Babe

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Birthday Sex, Danny still thinks too much, Getting Together, Introspection, M/M, Porn with Feelings, even when he's having lots of sex....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 20:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14601135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: When Steve drunkenly suggests he wants a kiss for his birthday, Danny begins to realizehewants a whole lot more....





	Happy Birthday, Babe

**Author's Note:**

> That reference to Steve’s birthday in the beginning of episode 18 came back to bug me once I’d finished my episode 18 story, [“Watch My Back”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14461437). This started as a fluffy romp, then it got complicated and emotional, then it just kept going.... 
> 
> **A note about content** :  
> This is a level up in explicitness from my last explicit story, [“It Started With Holding Hands”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13622352/chapters/31277913). Partly, there’s just more of it this time. And it’s still not _super_ explicit, but there are a few bits that are _pretty dang explicit_. It is very much about the emotions, but it’s a lot more about the sex this time. 
> 
> It starts off slow and heats up, and the most explicit bits are towards the end. So you could start reading and stop if it gets too explicit for you.... 
> 
> Just, please: Know your preferences and read accordingly. <3
> 
> *also a tiny warning for soft themes of panic/anxiety and comfort*

It’s been a bit of a crazy week, which maybe is a pointless thing to even say, only this one was really weird. It was the type of week where you think you’re doing okay as you go through it, continually adapting, rising to meet each new challenge of strangeness, but by the end of the week somehow you find you haven’t been dealing as well as you’d thought, and you just kind of crumble.

They at least make it back to Steve’s, Friday afternoon, wanting an easy night in, and order sandwiches, before it starts to truly hit them. As it is, it tumbles in a bit slowly, so the first thing that happens is they decide that rather than beers they should make cocktails, and they wind up making a big pitcher of Steve’s famous Navy daiquiris, which in retrospect is probably their first real mistake. Because they know, full well, they know, they always get very drunk on those. So maybe they want it. In which case, they can both take the blame for what happens next.

Part of the problem is they each have two drinks before the sandwiches even arrive. Which shouldn’t be a problem for two strapping, young-ish men like themselves. Only, neither of them has had a bite to eat since before seven that morning. If the sandwich delivery guy guesses they’re in for a bit of a night, he doesn’t do anything to warn them, just leaves them their sandwiches and rolls his eyes at their over-enthusiasm for bread and meat.

They do manage to eat most of their food, but they manage to drink a lot more as well, such that only an hour later finds them sitting on the upstairs lanai, glasses still in hand, remnants of sandwich on plates on the table that also is playing footrest for two pairs of bare and somewhat flirtatious feet.

“... And the look on his face when you showed him your badge? He never saw it coming!”

It’s a bit of a running joke, for Steve, when Danny’s status as a cop catches a suspect off-guard. Usually Danny pretends to be hurt when Steve rubs that in, but tonight he just isn’t feeling it.

“Yep, made it all worth it,” he sighs, downing the last of his drink, and looking at the glass as though it has offended him in some way.

They began attempting to process the weirder moments of the week somewhere around drink three, and they’ve made it most of the way through at least the highlights. There are still a couple moments from the week that Danny figures will return to him in his dreams if they don’t talk them out, but he’s finding himself drawn to an alternate topic, which is that tomorrow is Steve’s birthday, and he has yet to figure out what to get him.

The thing of it is, they are, both of them, much more likely to buy each other gifts not on birthdays or at Christmas, but during the year as things come up. A really nice bottle of bourbon on some random Tuesday just because it catches his eye while he’s buying beer and chips after a hard day. That new album Steve mentions he might get. A coffee table book of aerial photography that makes nature look very strange in a way that reminds Danny of Steve. The guitar. And Steve is forever buying Danny random things. Silly gag gifts for his desk, things for the Camaro. Silk ties. Fruit baskets.

At Christmas there’s usually some attempt at something practical but nicer than usual, maybe something a little thoughtful, something that’s a surprise, something that might delight. On birthdays they usually settle for a nice meal out, or an elaborate meal in. But for some reason this year, Danny isn’t feeling content with that. Maybe, and yeah, that makes sense, but maybe it’s because of the restaurant. Kind of takes something away from the whole “let’s go out for a nice meal” thing they usually do.

So Danny’s been racking his brain trying to come up with something fitting. And he’s failed utterly—and that was before the week of weird cases and zany things. And now he’s drunk, and ensconced very cozily on their favorite wicker sofa with said birthday boy, so maybe all of that contributes to what is possibly a bit of a suggestive tone when he asks: “So, babe, what do you want for your birthday?”

Steve goes still next to him, which probably means it wasn’t just in Danny’s head, how that sounded. He didn’t _mean_ it that way—at least, he doesn’t think he did. Although, if he was a little bit less drunk and a little more self-aware, he would see that it’s only inevitable that his attraction for his partner of seven plus odd years come out eventually... and, while drunk after sandwiches and sitting far too close at the end of what was probably one of the stranger weeks they’ve had together.... Well, it’s as good a time as any, really.

Danny’s started to panic, just a bit, in that slightly comedic way you do when you’re drunk and something comes out of your mouth you want to swear isn’t actually connected to your brain. He’s trying to think of how to take back his tone, how to say something else, something to make light of the suggestive sounding question. The _offer_ is the best way he can think to parse it. But for some reason, nothing is coming to him. He feels almost blank. As if he’s going from a script and the entire next page has literally not a word on it. His pulse is racing, his heart in his mouth, palms sweating, the room (okay, the whole outside) spinning, twirling, bringing everything into focus down to that one point—the look Steve turns on him. Right there, right next to him, right in his personal space as he always is, and not just when they’re drunk, but always, always, Steve, _right_ freaking _there_.

The amusement flees Steve’s expression so fast it’s remarkable. But what’s left in its place is something Danny doesn’t think he’d be able to make sense of even if he was sober. Steve sits back a bit, sways a little too much, tries to straighten himself, and winds up bracing himself with a hand on Danny’s arm. A hot, firm grasp that seems like it’s searing itself onto his skin. Steve licks his lips and swallows, and the look on his face intensifies even more.

“Anything I want?”

And Danny would not have guessed it was possible, but Steve’s tone echoes precisely his own out-of-nowhere tone, and that probably should throw him, but instead it anchors him. Maybe it’s a challenge, and if anything’s going to prod the inevitable into being, perhaps “competition” is really the most fitting way, because yep, Danny is going to rise to that challenge.

“Yeah, babe. Anything you want.”

There isn’t _more_ of the tone, really, so much as it’s just unquestionably there now.

“Well, there _is_ something I’ve been wanting, for a while now....”

Steve’s hand is still on his arm, and it’s almost the only thing Danny can focus on.

“Yeah?”

“ _Yeah_.”

By this point, Steve’s looking only at Danny’s lips, and licking his own, and Danny already knows where this is going, thank you, he’s not an idiot, but he wants to hear it, needs to be asked, not just implied into this.

“And what might that be?”

Steve does meet his eyes then, and well, fuck, maybe he doesn’t need words, because shit, the heat in those so-familiar hazel eyes is enough to knock him over.

“A kiss.”

Danny feels his eyebrows go up before he realizes he’s done it. He’s pretty sure that’s _not_ what Steve means (or not _all_ he means), is his point, but he can play with this, and really—and yes this is drunk Danny talking, but Steve is mostly to blame for the fact they’ve never gone there before, at least that’s what Danny tells himself, but if he wants to make Steve suffer just a little bit for that, well. No one can blame him. Right?

“Oh, a kiss. Is that all?”

Steve’s a little thrown by that, which doesn’t add to Danny’s intense enjoyment of the situation, no. But Steve, much to Danny’s surprise, can play this game too.

“Yep, just one kiss.”

And interestingly, it’s the perfect thing for him to have said because it gives Danny exactly the right opening.

“Well, that’s too bad. That’s really unfortunate....”

Steve looks shocked, just for one split second, but it’s so so worth it. He gets over it right away, and clearly sees where Danny is going, and it draws him even further in, physically. Danny can practically feel the strings in his hand as he winds them closer.

“And why’s that?” Steve does actually seem like he’s moved closer as he asks that directly to Danny’s lips.

Which of course means Danny has to lick them. He’s good at licking his lips, Danny likes to think, so he takes his time with it, making the most of the moment, drawing it out... knowing it’s all being pulled tight to the conclusion that’s been all but forgone for years by this point. He wants to savor this, in other words.

“Because once I start kissing you, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

And he can see, Steve knew it was coming, saw it a mile off, even as drunk as they are—or maybe _because_ of it. But that doesn’t diminish the force of those words. It hits him (Danny can see it in slow motion) squarely in the chest, impacting with almost as much force as if he’s shot him.

But this is kind of a big moment. A line which neither will cross lightly. A line they’ve danced around, both of them, for years now. Drawing close, backing just enough away to not be sucked in, but not far enough away to make it fade. This is not some light thing, a dalliance, a thing to do while drunk and later regret.

People talk about being suddenly sober. And that’s bullshit, Mythbusters proved that. But that’s exactly how it feels. Well, sober enough to realize you’re still drunk, maybe. Sober enough to know, solidly, plainly, completely, that you need to not do what you want to do because you want it so much that you need to be sober to do it the right way.

And they basically read each others’ minds all the time anyway, so Danny knows, and knows Steve knows, nothing is happening tonight. But everything is happening soon. It’s just now a question of when.

“Got plans for your birthday?”

“Chores, surfing, maybe grill something?”

“Sounds great. Yeah. Sounds great.”

Steve pauses, and his tone is playful and a little taunting when he asks: “Wanna join me?”

And Danny takes it the right way, laughing, and it brakes the incredible tension of the moment, just enough so they can breathe. But not enough so they can _move_. So they sit there, breathing heavily, and not thinking, and Steve’s hand leaves, at some point, Danny’s arm, but it falls at his side, and Danny finds it with his own, and their fingers tangle together, lightly at first, tentatively, but then more firmly, holding tight, putting the promise of everything into that touch, that point of contact, grounding themselves in it, using it to steady the swirl of things threatening to overwhelm Danny’s head.

Eventually, Steve stirs. “Okay. Water. Bed. Sleep.”

“Good idea, babe,” Danny agrees reluctantly. Part of him wants to suggest the sleep bit happen together, but he’s not entirely sure he trusts himself. His head’s swimming with how much he wants this, and that thought helps propel him towards his usual staying-over room, and he falls on the bed, lost in thoughts of eight years of lingering looks, searing touches, and a strange sense of longing he hasn’t ever fully explained away.

It’s so obvious now. Painful, but in a good way, in a way that knowing soon they’ll make good on it fills him with contentment. A kind of uneasy contentment, if that’s even a thing. Feels somehow fitting. He surprises himself by sleeping rather well, all things considered. Wakes just about every hour though, almost as if he’s checking to see if it’s time yet, and when he wakes at 4:30, he decides enough is enough. He’s sober now. Solidly so. And rather than feeling _less_ committed to the idea of kissing Steve and never stopping, he’s _more_ attached to the notion. Quite a bit more.

Still, he keeps himself in bed for a while longer, fighting the strength of his desire to get out of it, to go to a certain other bed. Until he can’t fight it any longer. So he stops trying.

As quietly as he can he gets up, pads softly across the hall. Steve’s left his door open, and Danny tries not to see _hope_ in that gesture.

Steve’s awake. Lying there, staring at the ceiling. Danny recognizes the moment Steve senses his presence in the doorway, because a smile slowly spreads across those lips he longs to kiss. Wordlessly he closes the distance between them, climbing into the bed as Steve lifts the sheet to allow him entrance. As Danny settles at his side, Steve turns toward him, in one smooth move, and then right before they touch, they freeze.

“I’m sober, are you sober?”

Steve nods.

“And you still want this?”

“What do you think?”

“I think that I’d like it if you actually for once used words and told me that you really do want this, and it’s not some silly drunken mess we’ve got ourselves into....”

“Danny. I think that if that were the case, we’d have done it while we were still drunk. I think we couldn’t because we knew we wanted it to not be that, not just be some drunken thing we could excuse away after. I know I don’t want that, don’t want it to be something we can regret. Need it to be something we are walking into completely aware of what we’re doing.” He pauses for a breath, and to reach a hand towards Danny’s face, pulling away before he allows himself to touch.

Danny wants this, wants Steve so badly, he thinks he can already feel those lips on his, tastes him on his tongue as it wets his own lips again. Why are they so dry? And then suddenly, something flashes in his head, and he stills.

“Wait. You said... ‘something you’ve been wanting for a while now’....”

“Ah.”

“You’ve wanted this?”

“ _Uh, yep_.”

“How long?”

“Can we call it _a while_ and leave it at that?”

Danny pulls further away, tries to get a good look at Steve, as though somehow that will tell him what he wants to know. Can he leave it? He’s not really sure. But his own need is beginning to press against him in a way that’s nearly painful, and he wants so much to give in to it. Steve radiates this _heat_ , this incredible glowing energy. Danny’s thought before that if they could harness that energy they could do something productive with it. Instead, it just burns up like a flare, sparking, looking dangerous, but not really providing anything helpful. Now he thinks it could be helpful, could maybe warm him in a way nothing ever has... break through the coldness that settled some long time ago around his heart in the vain attempt to keep it from being broken again.

Steve’s leaning into him, tentatively to begin, but more surely as Danny doesn’t resist, and Danny thinks it’s likely the heat will do more than melt Danny’s protective ice. His first touch sends waves of anticipation down Danny’s spine, and that’s just a hand on his shoulder. But it’s bare skin on usually-concealed bare skin, and that’s something new, that’s something implausible and thrilling and he leans into the touch, wanting more, wanting it all at once so it overwhelms him completely, fills every cell in his body, blasting through layers upon layers of anger and resentment and bitterness and hurt, so much hurt, and he’s never felt the fullness of that promise before with just one touch, and it nearly does him in.

And then Steve’s lips are hovering right in front of his, he can feel the soft breaths huffing against his too-aware skin, and the heat, this close, is almost unbearable, it’s making him faint and woozy and he’s never wanted a kiss this badly before, and it’s such a heady feeling he wants more of it, wants to prolong this—and maybe his awful line before was actually not far from the truth because he’s filled with this sense of needing to breathe as much as he can now because soon he’s going to be diving down deep. That’s exactly what it will feel like: Diving deep into the unfathomable ocean that is Steve.

Because Steve’s always been possessive of Danny—he’s protective of his whole team, of anyone who comes within his reach he considers ohana. But there’s always been a bit more of an edge to it with Danny. And Danny gets protective too, so he understands, but he _has_ wondered what it would be like to have someone be like that with him in a relationship.

He’s tended to be more about equality with his partners. Not a possessive thing, not a territorial thing. A thing of freedom and self determination and coming together freely as whole beings. None of this _my better half_ business, he’s always hated that. And Steve’s possessiveness, protectiveness comes from a place of recognizing completeness, acknowledging competence. It’s not a self-serving thing, it’s not a condescending thing, it’s something beyond any of that, and okay, Danny wonders what it would be like to feel that incredible force of gravity in a romantic—in a sexual—relationship. He thinks he could get lost in it, and that’s something he would very much like to experience.

Something in that thought, probably the thing about gravity, finally pushes him past the edge and onto Steve’s lips. He kind of falls over with it, finding himself leaning into Steve, and the barest gasp that leaves his lips right before they meet sends shivers up Danny’s arms.

The best way he can describe the kiss is that it’s _quenching_. But in that subtly shocking way when you haven’t realized just how thirsty you are until you’re finally drinking and there’s that moment of awareness that you don’t want to stop, aren’t going to be able to stop, possibly until you’re sick with it.

Danny doesn’t think, though, that he could ever be sick with kisses.

Steve’s lips are softer than he would have guessed. As hot as he’d imagined, and they’re almost searing their impression onto his own. It’s as though Steve’s somehow pouring his pent up longing into Danny with each lick, each nip, each clash of teeth, and if he could somehow tally it all up, Danny thinks he would be able to count just exactly how long Steve’s wanted this. His body seems to understand it implicitly, and he settles himself more completely on top of Steve, aligning them perfectly, his legs settling on either side of Steve’s hips, pressing down in a way that’s powerfully gratifying and totally not even close to enough.

Steve’s hands have been unsure of what to do, wandering unsettled in a flittering orbit from Danny’s head, to his shoulders, to his hands... but now they seem to have found a purpose and land firmly on his ass, not pulling, not grabbing, just holding him in place as though to say _don’t you dare move away_.

They break the kiss, panting, grinning, almost laughing, and Danny sees, in Steve’s eyes, a twinkling kind of delight that he recognizes, and that’s a revelation to him.

“You really have wanted this for a long time, haven’t you?”

Steve’s eyes flutter briefly closed, as if he’s about to hide from the truth of that, but when they open, there’s resolve there, there’s openness, there’s... it’s not resignation, because it feels radiantly positive, but it’s a sense of _I’m not hiding this any longer_. Although it occurs to Danny that _hiding_ isn’t entirely the correct word.

“Longer, I think, than I’ve been aware of it, because it feels like forever.... But since you started talking about retirement, it’s been increasingly impossible to ignore.”

Danny’s mind helpfully supplies that it lines up nearly perfectly with another something that might have been an influence as well, because he knows _he’s_ been having increasingly... complicated... emotions about Steve ever since his diagnosis. It hasn’t been too hard to brush that off as overly-emotional and protective and concern for his best friend, but it’s suddenly very clear to him that it’s been a whole lot more than just that.

Their close contact, however, combined with the lack of kissing, threatens to push all thoughts of how long and why and why not and what now completely out of his mind, and he allows that swell of desire to press him back down onto Steve, into another epic kiss from which he plans never to return.

Only he does, because after not too much longer with his lips on Steve, he finds himself wondering what other parts might taste and feel like, and he rises up on his arms enough to find a spot that draws him, and settling back down, sliding a bit off to one side, he begins nipping at the side of Steve’s neck, down along his collar bone and slowly across his chest. His hand, meanwhile, explores lazily lower, and Steve, who if Danny’d thought about it he probably would have imagined would be the aggressor, seems stunningly content to allow Danny his sleepy discovery.

More than that, Steve’s actually reveling in it, Danny realizes, and it occurs to him that probably there’s some overlay of expectation, with a guy like Steve, that he’s the take-charge type in the bedroom, as he is in the case room. Steve commands any space he occupies, without even trying. So to feel that he’s _not_ doing that, right here, _in bed_ , with Danny... it’s thrills Danny almost to the bone. His senses go even further into alert, it’s like that first golden afternoon light when you realize it’s really summer and everything feels liberating. There’s one surge of power that floods him, the thought he could do what he wanted, take what he wanted like this and Steve would let him, and it’s briefly tempting, the sense of how exhilarating that would be. But in almost the same moment, he knows that’s not what he wants. That he wants Steve to know how it feels to be taken slowly, painstakingly, gently apart, piece by piece, by someone who knows, who cares, who needs just as much as he’s needed... because he can sense, somehow, that Steve’s never had that, and Danny can think of no better birthday present than to be the one to give that to him.

Slowly he shifts himself further down the bed, making eye contact with Steve the whole way. Raising his eyebrows in question, he looks for a reaction, acknowledgement... _permission_. Steve’s a bit hazy and out of it, by the look of him, and while Danny appreciates that, he needs to be sure.

“Babe,” he calls softly, drawing Steve out of wherever he’s gone. “Can I?” His hand hasn’t stopped moving further down Steve’s chest, and it curls inward as he fingers the waistband of Steve’s shorts, Steve nearly melting at the touch. He’s completely giving into Danny, and as much as Danny wants to be driven by that, he’s holding himself back even more now.

“ _Yes_ , _Danny_ , anything, everything, _yes_....”

Tugging gently, Danny lifts carefully and slides down at the same time to bring his other hand in play, pulling the shorts down enough. Steve’s not helping, which amuses Danny. He’s just kind of gone slack and _more_ relaxed—if you can call it that. It’s a few steps beyond relaxed, if Danny’s any judge. But he doesn’t really need Steve’s help, and there’s part of him that’s maybe realizing this is what Steve needs, so Danny progresses slowly as he goes till he gets himself comfortably settled beneath the sheets, between Steve’s legs, and it’s still dark, but Danny doesn’t need to see to know what’s in front of him.

There’s a moment of hesitation, utterly unlike Danny in bed, where he can’t seem to decide what he wants first, and maybe he’s been with too many women lately and it’s been far far too long since he’s taken his time like this, really taken his time, with a guy. But really it’s not all _that_ different, and he’s soon lost in letting himself explore and savor, and the scent of Steve nearly does him in, and then the salty tang hits his tongue, and he’s just gone, that lightheaded almost swooning when you’re so swept away by the sensations, by that flood of _want_ that you know you couldn’t stand even if you needed to, and there’s something so addictive about that feeling, and he knows he’ll wish, after, that he was more in focus, because he knows he’s going to want to remember everything about this, but the pull is overwhelming and he just gives in and lets it subsume him completely.

He knows Steve’s getting close, and he’s not ready for that and yet he can’t bring himself to stop. Then Steve makes the choice for him, and the air hits him like a wash of electricity as Steve lifts the sheet off him and pulls Danny up, kissing him as though he’s forgotten he could and can’t stand _not_ doing it any longer. It’s clear when he tastes himself in Danny’s mouth, and he collapses back against the bed from the weight of it, letting out a sound that Danny’s certain he’s never heard from Steve and he knows instantly he wants to hear it again... and again.

“I need to taste you,” Steve whispers against Danny’s lips, and it’s nearly a whimper, like he’s begging—as though Danny might protest? _Not likely_.

Danny’s reaction is to start to shove his own shorts off, but Steve grabs hold of his wrists, a little too tightly, and the pressure feels controlling and assertive much more in the way Danny imagines Steve would be in bed, and the thrill that courses through him at that feels wonderfully new.

Steve’s less patient than Danny was, but no less attentive, and his skill with his tongue briefly makes Danny wonder just how recently it has been likewise engaged, because it’s not _entirely_ like riding the proverbial bike, not when you’ve been used to other actions for far too long, and maybe part of Danny’s mind starts cataloging potential suspects, but then Steve’s tongue swipes lower and thinking ceases, because as much as he wants that, he won’t last five seconds right now, and it’s Danny’s turn to grab tightly, and oh he wishes there was more hair to hold on to, but he gentles Steve up, making it, he hopes, very very clear that he’s not objecting to anything other than timing and pressing needs and wanting, so much, for this to _last_.

From the crooked, cocky grin on Steve’s face right before they return to the kissing, he’s succeeded.

“Okay, but it’s my birthday, and I want that later.”

“Fine, fine, god, yeah. But not yet.”

And with kissing and few touches they manage to draw it out for a lot longer than Danny would have imagined possible, and though he comes hard, there’s very little relief in it because he’s so amped up, so over stimulated, and so very emotional—the last of which he doesn’t really comprehend, that it’s _emotion_ he’s feeling, until it hits him, kind of all at once, as they’re both easing down from their orgasms and he realizes he’s light headed from his breathing, and Steve is too. But what shows him how different this was, for both of them, is the look in Steve’s eyes, as though he’s not lost in his own pleasure so much as delighted by the way it has swirled together with Danny’s. Danny agrees. He almost feels dizzy, almost thinks the room actually is spinning, or at least flashing or pulsing or something, because nothing feels real, nothing feels solid... except Steve’s body beneath his own, and it’s is so incredibly tangible, and firm, and present in such an intense and intimate way... and for non-penetrative, first-time sex with a new partner you haven’t even messed around with up till now, that was some seriously advanced, mind bending pleasure. He can’t begin to imagine how much better it will get.

“We need food.”

Remembering that technically they probably are at least a little hung-over, Danny has to agree, and his stomach soon concurs.

“I don’t have groceries.”

Danny groans. “Wailana?”

“Too crowded. Do you trust me?”

“No, not really.”

“Good. You’ll love this place.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not going to love _not_ being naked in bed with you.”

“It’ll be worth it, then we’ll come right back here, and you can give me my present.”

“What the hell did we just do, then?”

“That was just a warm up.”

Danny half wants to smack him, but it _is_ his birthday, besides... he kinda agrees.

Showering and getting dressed takes about as long as you’d expect when you’re so recently allowed to touch and kiss and taste and nibble. Steve, it turns out, is about as grabby as you think he would be, and Danny knows that’s going to be a problem—so big a problem—but he really can’t bring himself to complain at the moment. 

What really is more of a problem is making it to the restaurant, because it turns out Danny really does like it when Steve drives his car, especially when he opens the door for him, and rests his hand proprietarily on Danny’s leg, so they pull over not once but twice in what should be a five minute drive, and it’s all back streets, thankfully, but there’s a real danger, here, of establishing a tradition they really can’t afford—say for instance, in the middle of a case.

What’s even worse, Danny learns, is sitting right close next to each other like they always do, because holy crap, that’s just a small step away from making out. At least that’s how it feels to Danny while they wait for their completely ridiculous bacon adorned Bloody Marys which turn out to be fantastic, but not distraction enough from the way Steve’s hand rests on Danny’s thigh, slightly too high up for comfort. He contemplates the idea of a quick kiss— it’s a cozy nook they’re seated in, and a sleepy morning with only a few people around, and Danny’s got no issues with PDA of the light-kiss sort. What he’s not at all sure about is Steve’s ability to keep it at a “light kiss,” so he abstains. But the thought that he _could_ nearly drives him bonkers.

And then the food arrives, and surely whipped cream has no place on bacon and chocolate chip pancakes, and the look in Steve’s eyes tells him it’s not gone unnoticed, but it turns out to be stupidly good, _and_ gives him a few ideas for later.

It’s one of the harder things he thinks he’s done in his life, but after, he makes them get groceries, because he has no plans of putting clothes on and leaving the house for the rest of the weekend, thank you very much, and maybe it’s not the most complete cart-full of food and supplies, but at least there’s meat and some things to make Steve a cake, and he thinks that’s about really all they need.

They barely get the groceries put away before Steve’s got Danny backed up against the kitchen island, his shorts down around his ankles, and he’s evidently warming back up for his birthday present. For about twelve seconds when Danny can see what’s coming, he thinks about protesting, which Steve’s super senses alert him to and he growls “Shut the fuck up” before sinking back down, practically swallowing him whole as if he’s a drowning man gasping air. It’s too fast and rushed and desperate to be fully gratifying, but then it’s not meant to be. It’s meant only to make sure what comes after is spectacular. If what they’ve shared so far is any indication, neither of them needs to worry the least on that front.

Somehow they wind up back in bed, trail of clothes, Danny very much suspects, leading back downstairs, though he gets a little foggy if he tries to think too hard about it. Mostly he’s able to think about Steve, about the places their bodies rest against each other as they kiss, as Steve alternates between being patient and tender and aggressive and demanding, like he can’t decide what he feels, what he wants, what he needs. Which Danny understands because he’s not at all sure of any of those things himself, it’s all so much, so overwhelming, so overpowering. It’s as though what’s sprung up between them is so much larger than either of them... it’s almost too much for either of them to manage. Danny senses Steve’s growing frantic with it, and somehow that gives him a grounding edge which he thinks he can use to try and get on top of this wave of sensation, of energy, of... of whatever this is.

“Hey, babe, easy...” he whispers, easing Steve off him, cooling his touches, bringing him back to the surface with hands to his face, soft kisses to his shoulders, and eye contact. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, we have all day, all weekend, as much time as you want.”

Something that might almost be panic flashes in Steve’s eyes as he says that, and a dawning awareness begins to seep through Danny’s sleep-deprived, sex-hazed, lust-blunted mind.

“...And all the time after that, babe.” Steve looks away, flinching almost. “Hey.” Danny tries to follow his gaze, recapture his eyes, but Steve won’t meet his look. “ _Hey_ ,” he repeats, and grabs Steve’s chin, pulling it back towards him, steeling his expression, ready to scold. “This is not some wild weekend outside of reality. This isn’t just for your birthday, is that what you think? That you can have this, but only today? Because that is _not_ how this works.”

Steve’s hands have found their way to the back of Danny’s neck, seemingly without his being cognizant of it, his fingers tangling in the hair at the base of Danny’s skull, twining, almost as a nervous habit, and Danny barely resists the smile that wants to quirk his lips towards smug. He’s never seen Steve so worked up, so anxious, so _stressed_. It’s sweet really, but it hurts his heart that he could have thought even for a moment that the weekend was all they had. He blames himself, because he should have seen framing this as his birthday present is probably what did it, and maybe Steve didn’t even fully realize that’s what he was doing, but clearly it’s where he ended up.

With a sigh so deep it hurts, Danny allows his head to come to rest against Steve’s, pressing their foreheads together almost painfully.

“This isn’t your birthday present. _I’m_ not your birthday present. I’m just me, this is just us, finally admitting that this is what we want, what we _have_ wanted, for far too long, and this is us taking that. And maybe we’re going too fast, but maybe we have to, because once we admitted it, any possible structure of holding back ceased to exist. That’s how it feels for me, anyway. I can’t see the point of holding back now. But I will if you’re going to freak yourself out over trying to take too much too fast.”

He’s remembering how he had to hold Steve back from going too far right away, and he thinks he should have seen more in that than he did. It’s easy to be flattered by such powerful desire. Too easy to not listen to bells that might be ringing too softly in the distance.

Danny falls on his side, and pulls Steve with him, so they’re resting, nestled against each other equitably—lined up perfectly. He brings a hand up to Steve’s face, smoothes it over the grizzled stubble there, grinning at the way Steve practically melts under his hand. And he realizes something else in the moment, from that reaction, because there’s no doubt Steve’s experienced with men, but it dawns on Danny that the kind of experiences he’s had with men might be very different from what _this_ will be.

“When we agreed we were doing this, when we said it wasn’t just a drunken mistake... I didn’t mean a weekend of wild sex.” Steve jolts out of his soft, malleable, pliant zone, stiffening under Danny’s hand. “Easy, babe. I _love_ a good wild weekend of sex, but that’s not what I want with you. If we’re doing this, it’s about so much more. And I appreciate your enthusiasm, god, do I. Who wouldn’t want to be worshiped like that. But there’s room for slowness and lingering and even holding back.” Steve’s panic has eased a little as Danny’s been talking, but he looks skittish still, so Danny leans in and draws Steve down in a kiss, which seems to help considerably. “I’m in this for more than just the sex, alright?”

Steve nods, and settles against Danny’s side, almost nestling into him, like he’s cozying up, like he’s trying to get as close as he can, get as far inside his personal space as it’s possible to go. Once he stills, with a sigh of his own, he murmurs softly that he is too, but maybe he doesn’t know how to do that. “I’m used to a more practical get-it-done approach. Straight to the point, no lingering over extraneous details. And I _like_ that, and I’m good at it. But yeah, with you it’s more. I _want_ it to be more. And maybe I don’t quite know how to do that.”

There’s a pause, while Danny decides if he thinks Steve will say more, but when he doesn’t, he presses forward. “So, with women, though...” and yes, he’s making assumptions, that the direct and practical sex has been with men, which seems a fairly obvious distinction, but he doesn’t want to presume. “Do you take your time? Savor it?”

Not that Danny wants too much to know which side of things Catherine might have fallen on, because he’s often suspected _that_ relationship was much more about practicality and accessibility and habit than anything else, but he’s making a guess that Steve’s got certain categories for partners based on gender that maybe Danny’d like to blast through. Then again, he supposes it wouldn’t entirely shock him to learn that Steve’s simply all fire and brimstone in bed, regardless of who he’s with.

“Fine, yes, it’s fair to say my encounters with men have tended to be fast and furious, and alright some of my times with women have been much the same, but yes, Danny, I _can_ go slow and steady, but yeah, alright, I’ve only done that with women. The guys I’ve been with, well, it hasn’t been like that.”

“Okay, and just curious here, but what do you want with me?”

He bites his lip, Danny can see the frustration written clearly on Steve’s face. “It’s just totally different,” he whispers. “I don’t really understand it, but I know I want more than I’ve ever had... with anyone.”

And that’s maybe more than Danny was expecting, and alright, that kind of admission, that’s the stuff that really gets to Danny, and it’s back to the emotion of it all being the thing that shocked him the most, and he realizes he feels it too. _This is different_. So very different. In a whole bunch of ways, ways he thinks he may not ever totally understand.... But the thing is, he’s okay with that. He’s okay with letting it evolve slowly, following it where it goes, and enjoying the process. Thing is, it’s already more than a little clear that’s something that will be harder for Steve to adjust to.

Danny rubs Steve’s shoulder while he tries to work out how to respond. The first thing, it seems, is to reassure him he wants that too. He starts with a kiss, which he keeps slow and gentle but firm. That calms Steve, who is looking so expectantly at Danny, as though he’s hoping he’ll show him the way through all of this. Danny knows he can’t be the one to do that—he can help Steve figure it out, but he can’t lead him on a path that’s not his to walk.

He sighs. “The best thing I can tell you is to just be open to it. You’re not going to figure it out from the outside. The only way is to get in it and see where it takes you... and I’m guessing that sounds scary for you, but if you start out forcing it to be something it’s not, you’ll miss out on what it might become, if you let it.” He plants another reassuring kiss on Steve’s willing lips. “I am not going to decide for you what it is you want. I know what I want, but you have to figure it out for yourself, and in the meantime, I’ll just say that I’m here, in this, for the long haul, for a _real_ relationship, Steve, not a weekend fling. And I know you’ve never had a real relationship, a daily, constant thing... and I can be patient while you figure that out, figure out if that’s what you want....”

He’s hoping Steve will acknowledge something in there, and there’s a concentrated, puzzled, working expression on Steve’s face, but no words are forthcoming, so Danny lets it rest for a bit and watches Steve think. He keeps his hands still, but pressing firmly into Steve’s bare flesh, hoping that will help, will ground him, anchor him, steady him.

“You’re right,” Steve finally speaks, and the somewhat pained expression has only intensified, but his posture is less rigid, and Danny figures that’s a good thing. “I haven’t ever had an everyday kind of a relationship— _except with you_. And maybe it’s dumb of me, but I think that’s to my advantage. I already know I need you in my life every single day. It doesn’t seem completely stupid to think that means it could work....” His ending tone veers a little more to the questioning, but there’s a firmness behind his words that fuels Danny. He’s about to say something in response when Steve takes a breath to continue. “I think the first thing I need to— _want to_ —learn is how to take this part slower.”

And it’s not till he says _this part_ that Danny realizes Steve’s been moving himself against Danny, letting his free hand travel down and around, grasping his ass and pulling towards him, and Danny realizes that even this somewhat intense emotional discussion hasn’t made Steve’s interest waver in the least. Which is a powerful thought, one that revives his own desire in an instant, and he moans softly in the direction of Steve’s mouth, which provokes a grin and a dive forward to capture that sentiment with his lips.

“I know I’m good when it’s fast and desperate. Show me how to make it even better,” Steve nips at Danny’s lips as he thrusts against him, and he’s already leaking at the thought, and Danny shivers in anticipation.

Danny knows they’re too heightened for what Steve originally had in mind. He knows he needs to dial this back, ease Steve into a different mode, a different approach, a different feeling. He remembers the first time a guy did that with him, made him slow down, showed him how to take his time, to really enjoy every moment of it, and he realizes that’s something he’s forgotten somewhere along the line too, and it’s been this, with Steve, this blossoming possibility, that’s reawakened that longing in him... which does something powerfully strange to his heart.

He’s completely serious about wanting a real relationship with Steve, and the thing is, he knows it’s what Steve wants as well, probably _needs_ , to be honest. They both do. He thinks they both have for a long time. So he uses that, as his inspiration, as he begins to slowly show Steve how to linger, to pull back, to savor, and it’s _that_ orgasm, when they both come at the same time as Danny strokes them off with his hand over Steve’s, that finally is completely satisfying.

They fall briefly asleep after, and when Danny wakes, Steve’s cleaning them up, almost tenderly, his expression filled with awe. Danny guesses that was different for him, doesn’t need verbal recognition to sense it. Steve takes cleaning them up a little further, and with a careful look to Danny for permission and maybe something a bit more than permission— _acknowledgement_ , maybe, that this is the right thing to do now. When he gets it, he begins, slowly, what he’d wanted before. And Danny’s so glad he’d made him wait, because Steve absolutely knows what he’s doing, and Danny’s already had the benefit of that well-trained tongue, but this is different, this is so fantastically intense, and he knows he was right, he’d have lasted all of five seconds before, but now, he’s still satisfied enough that it can build so deeply and slowly, and by the time Steve goes to put a finger in he can slide two in right away, and that nearly blows Danny’s mind right there.

He can tell Steve is still trying to go slow, but he’s getting impatient, and truth be told so is Danny. He pulls Steve up and whispers “Lube, now,” and is rewarded by the most self-satisfied smirk he’s ever seen.

“In a hurry are you?”

Danny just grunts and pushes Steve onto his back, grabbing the bottle of lube from the bedside table where it has magically appeared (that had been one of the supplies he’d insisted on during their slightly strained grocery shopping trip). He shoves two fingers in himself then quickly adds a third, then squeezes out far too much lube onto Steve who gasps at the cold, then lets out a low groan when Danny smoothes it around, adding more to his fingers before positioning himself over Steve.

The _want_ in Steve’s eyes has crystallized into something even more intense, and Danny’s panting before he even starts to lower himself. He thinks Steve will stop him before he’s all the way seated, but he doesn’t, he just watches, with that sharp, almost stunned expression, as though all of this is an utter revelation to Steve, as though he can barely believe they have this ability, this power, this magic, to connect with each other so perfectly.

Those thoughts distract them both enough so that when Danny’s ready to move they’re both startled out of thinking and the physical takes completely over. And it’s all almost in a blur, a haze—like he’s watching through frosted glass or one of those romantic filters where everything just _glows_.

Given all that, they last stunningly long, and when they do come, it’s Danny who topples over first, bringing Steve with him on an exhalation and his name, and if Danny didn’t already know he was so far gone in love to this man, he does now, and it hits him like the most powerful undertow and he nearly chokes on it.

Steve recovers first, and as he pulls slowly out of Danny, that warmth leaving him with a shiver, he takes a shuddering breath, then plants a sloppy kiss on the side of Danny’s head.

“Yep,” he mutters as he tries to stand to get another washcloth to clean them up. “I like your way.”

And Danny laughs until he’s coughing, and he watches Steve as he cleans Danny as thoroughly as he can while he’s limp and lax and sated, and he figures his eyes must be dopey and far too fond and just done in. Just... gone. He’s beyond smitten, he’s beyond besotted, he’s always had a soft spot for Steve, always been indulgent, even when he’s scolding or judging or harassing. But he’s in so much trouble now. He’s never felt his heart this completely gone this fast, and given that Danny typically falls _hard_ , that’s saying something.

The way Steve’s watching him, the way he kisses Danny when he comes back to bed, the way he touches him, as he pulls him close, Danny’s sure he knows. And there’s a little bit of panic that slides in, through the cracks that always let panic in when Danny’s allowed himself to be vulnerable—and he’s way past vulnerable here. But Steve senses it, and he shushes Danny, and kisses him softly on the head, and just holds him until it starts to ease, and it’s _then_ that Danny realizes Steve is familiar with aftercare, and probably saw it coming long before Danny did, maybe even anticipated it, and that awareness allows him to relax into it, to allow Steve to comfort him, to soothe him, until the panic fades to a dull anxiousness.

It’s left him heightened, rather than relaxed, in the afterglow, and he’s not entirely sure what to do about it. He feels a little bit lost, a little bit turned upside down. His entire world has been reduced to the space within this man’s arms, and it fills his heart to bursting and terrifies him utterly, at one and the same time.

“Let me feed you,” Steve whispers, after a long while of just shushing and holding. “Food will help.”

There’s this vague notion that Danny should be the one to cook today, he should be the one pampering Steve, but he feels so non-functional he knows it would be a disaster. He starts to protest, because he’s conditioned to it in some sense—he’s the caretaker, the one who sees things, knows things, the one always on the lookout, always aware. It’s unsettling for him to let that be Steve, even for an hour—and probably, he thinks, it’s already been about an hour, which is also unsettling.

“Danny. I trusted you before. It’s your turn to trust me. Let’s go downstairs and I’m going to make a nice simple meal, and then we can see what we’re up to after that, alright?”

He nods, and Steve gets slowly out of the bed, finding their clothes—and, Danny had been right about there being a trail, because Steve leaves the room before he comes back with what they were wearing before, but then he dumps those in the laundry basket and pulls out clean lounge clothes. He helps Danny to stand, helps him get dressed, then when Danny sways a bit, Steve pulls him into his arms and just holds him.

It’s such an amazing feeling, being held by Steve. They hug a lot, and spend a good bit of time with their arms wrapped around each other. But this close contact is a world away from either of those things. He’s completely ensconced within Steve’s arms, settled completely against his so-solid chest. He can hear Steve’s heart beating, feel the breaths he’s taking—long and slow, for Danny’s benefit no doubt. And he can smell himself on Steve. And he knows he’d be able to smell Steve on him, and it’s those twin thoughts that finally start to seep into his emotion-addled brain and bring him down from this crazy, overwrought high.

“Yeah, food sounds good, babe.”

“Excellent.”

The first thing Steve does is to open a bottle of red wine, and Danny wonders if it’s a comfort tactic on his part as well, because that’s the effect it has, and probably that’s something he should know about himself, but he doesn’t feel he did, and he’s mulling the thought over as Steve starts to cook... steaks and pasta and veg, simple food Steve could make in his sleep, but all of it somehow feels like just exactly the right choice to bring Danny back to some semblance of normalcy, something grounding, something somehow essentially Danny—but Danny who spends most of his waking time with Steve. And maybe that’s what allows him to see he may not be aware of these things, these Danny things, comforting things, but Steve absolutely is. And Steve uses that. More than just today, Steve uses these things all the time, in—he almost thinks “managing” in his head before he stops himself, but it’s almost true. Danny prides himself on knowing Steve, on being able to “run” him, in some sense. But Steve’s clearly been doing that just as much with him, and he’s never even seen it till this moment.

That, more than the food or the wine, brings him more solidly into himself, and he sets his glass down, walks over to Steve, and presses him back against the kitchen counter, drawing him down into a kiss that’s soft and slow and gentle, but tinged with a raw edge of passion that lets himself know, as much as Steve, that it’s worked. He can tell Steve gets the message when those hands leave their cooking duties and rest themselves on Danny’s ass. Danny’s own hands tuck themselves just inside Steve’s waistband, and he feels the shiver that runs through Steve’s whole body at the contact on his skin.

A half-formed thought about the powerfully well-suitedness of the two of them for this alteration of their already fantastic relationship stumbles awkwardly through Danny’s mind before he loses it in another kiss that draws him into the deep.

Unfortunately, Steve pulls him out of it after not too long because he _is_ still cooking.

“Hey,” he whispers, laying a hand softly on Danny’s cheek.

“Thank you, babe,” Danny sighs, leaning into the touch.

“For what?”

“All of that, all of this....”

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for. I got you, always. Don’t ever doubt that, okay? I may not always know the best way, or what anything means, or how to go about it, but I will always be here for whatever you need.”

Steve turns to check on the food, but Danny doesn’t want to back away after what Steve’s just said, so he holds on as he moves, and winds up settled against his back, tucked perfectly against him, and stays that way as Steve finishes cooking.

They eat outside, sitting side by side, their legs resting against each other, those feet edging back towards the flirtatiousness that in some sense may have been what began this all, and it’s just perfect. It’s them, it could easily be any other Saturday they’ve decided to have an easy day around Steve’s house, but at the same time, it’s so clear it feels like fireworks over their heads—this is new, this is totally new, this is something so different and magical and wonderful and just... perfect.

After they eat they wind up making out and pulling each other off, quick and practical and gratifying, and they know it’s so they can do even more later, and they should be surprised they’ve got so much left in them, at their age, but maybe they’re tapping into a reserve of pent up, suppressed, long-longed-for release from too many years of not allowing themselves this rightness, this togetherness, that’s been there all along and just not realized.

They lie out on the grass, under the sun that’s only just starting to creep towards the horizon, and they talk about practical things, little things, like driving together to work on Monday or taking both cars, like Danny bringing some things over to Steve’s (he already keeps a few things there, it would have been impossible for that not to have happened at some point in the last eight years—Steve has some things at Danny’s too, it’s just been realism). They don’t talk about telling the team, they don’t talk about how they’ll need to be in public—there are some things that will be difficult to figure out, and Danny knows there will be yelling. They wouldn’t be them if there wasn’t. But there’s only so much their brains can process at once, and soon they’re pulled back toward the physical, and Danny knows Steve would probably love to have him right here on this lawn, but he is entirely too old for that, thank you, so they end up in bed considerably too early for grown men to go to sleep, and that’s just fine because they don’t exactly plan on sleeping.

It seems implausible there could be more to discover, but of course there is, there always is, and Danny’s gotta hand it to Steve, his enthusiasm knows very few limits. But he’s also very tuned in to Danny, and to what Danny’d said about lingering, and Steve’s already incorporating that and making it his own in ways Danny figures will continue to stun him and tangle in his senses.

They’re lingering in bed after a rather frantic fuck that Danny pushed for because sometimes that’s just what you need and frankly he wanted less of the thinking after his little jolt before. He thinks Steve knows. Which shouldn’t surprise him. Steve’s always had super Danny senses. But the more time they spend naked together, it’s like they’re reaching epic proportions. Like he’s seeping into Danny’s skin, drawing something out from deep within Danny’s very being. He’s mimicking what would be that gesture, right now, with his fingers twirling Danny’s sex-tousled hair, and Danny feels almost hypnotized by it. It’s calming and soothing to his bones, and maybe that’s partly the sheer quantity of mind-numbing orgasms he’s had in the last fewer-than-twenty-four hours, but partly it’s this level of fond, mindful, possessive, tender attention. It’s the most wonderful mix—that possessiveness he’s so wondered about... it fills something deep inside him he probably shouldn’t admit to. Not an emptiness, not a lack... maybe more of a crack. A split. Something not missing but fractured. By what he’s not really sure—life, probably. Maybe some half remembered early heartbreak or rejection, maybe some cryptic birth wound or just the trauma of growing up, leaving home, being an adult.

It’s not that Steve claiming Danny makes him whole by filling in something he didn’t have. It helps pull what he already _is_ more solidly back together. Gives him what feels like greater structural integrity within himself, to be a better self. That’s something they probably have always done for each other—that security of having someone watching your six does that, and he’s always trusted Steve more to do that than anyone he’s ever known. And this is like that, but on several, indiscernible, wonderful levels.

It infiltrates the sex as well, there’s no doubt of that. Even the fast and furious fuck—and Steve’s right, he’s damn amazing at that—had more of some intangible something than a mere gratification screw. Danny can still feel a tingling in his legs, and Steve took charge this time so it’s not from exertion or from too much weight on his knees cutting off his blood supply, besides, it feels almost not even physical. So much of all of this feels... not in his head, but almost outside of himself. He’d felt that before, that it was something _between_ them, some shared experience, some shared sense, and he thinks there’s an electricity in the air now, hovering above and around them, dipping, twisting, clinging, skimming across his skin. His head is resting on Steve’s chest, and he’s vaguely marking as his heart rate slows, post-orgasm, and it’s calming in some deeply comforting way—and not just because he finds himself shifting his own breathing to the changing rate of Steve’s breaths.

It’ll be helpful self-regulation, he decides, for someone who should but never will meditate. Maybe Steve fills that need in his life along with everything else. It’s slightly ironic that the same man who causes so much of Danny’s strife and strain could also be the answer to it, but it’s fitting just the same.

“ _Danny_....”

“Mmm?”

“Are you _trying_ to drive me insane?”

“Huh?”

“Uuungh.”

And on that guttural sound Steve pushes his hips up and Danny swears he didn’t realize he was doing it, but his fingers are brushing, gently, but insistently, against Steve’s balls and further back, pressing, almost pushing inside, mindlessly, without thinking... and Steve’s clearly been enjoying it. A lot.

They haven’t talked about this. There’s been this unspoken assumption, on both their parts, about who’s doing what to whom. And there shouldn’t be, there shouldn’t ever be unspoken assumptions, Danny would be the first to assert that. And maybe he didn’t really assume (well part of him _clearly_ didn’t), and so much for his insistence on consent, because he’s just been going right for it without asking or thinking. Steve, however, very obviously is not objecting, and Danny’s aware of it now, which changes things.

“Can I...?” He starts to ask, but before he can put words to it Steve’s holding the bottle of lube over himself, lid open, ready to pour some on Danny’s fingers. “So, you’ve done this before?”

“ _This part_ , yes.”

“But not more?”

“ _Not yet_....”

All that work calming Danny’s heart rate is demolished in an instant, because the tone with which Steve says _not yet_ sounds a lot like _But I want it_. And it’s not that Danny has expectations. He never wants to have ideas of what his ideal activities in bed with his partners are—that’s always down to them, it’s all about their own comfort levels. Danny’s easily contented with having, and with not having, any of it—as long as it’s done in love and with patience and care. But there’s an undeniable equality to sharing this, and, okay, he loves that. And, if he’s honest, it would be only fitting, he thinks, for them to be equals in this as well.

The only problem is, the thought of burying himself deeply within Steve is already messing with his head and his dick in equal measure, and he’s afraid he’s not going to be able to be as... objective... about this as he needs to be.

He takes a steadying breath, licks his lips.

“And, do you _want_ to?”

“Jesus, Danny, isn’t it obvious?”

“Humor me, Steven.”

“Yes, Danny, I want you inside me. Fingers first. But, more, too....”

Danny pulls his hand away, holds it out for Steve, whose hand is shaking as he carefully squeezes some lube onto Danny’s fingers. When Danny runs his slicked up fingers across Steve’s hole, the sharp intake of breath goes directly to Danny’s gut. He teases just the tip of one finger inside and Steve barely holds himself back from canting his hips.

Danny smirks. “I thought you said you’d done this bit before....”

“Catherine’s fingers are slightly smaller than yours, buddy.”

And not that Danny needed to know that, but he admits he’s intrigued. Rachel let Danny do anything he wanted _to_ her, but she wouldn’t reciprocate in that particular area, and he guesses it doesn’t shock him that Catherine would.... But as he slides his finger further in and Steve tightens his grip in Danny’s hair, he offers up further information, unbidden.

“She was trying to make a point to me....”

“Is that so?”

“She was convinced... _oh god_ keep going, Danny, please....”

“I’m not sure how I feel about doing this to you while you tell me about how your ex used to do it, babe.”

“No, but. Okay, hang on for one minute.” And Steve pulls away from Danny so he can look him in the face. “Danny she was convinced I was in love with you and she was trying to make me see it.”

“And she thought she’d accomplish that by sticking her fingers in your ass?”

“Evidently.”

“Did it work?”

Steve huffs out a bemused laugh. “Maybe not that part directly, but she was, overall, persuasive.”

Danny slides the finger all the way in. “So why are we only doing this now, huh?”

“ _Fuck_.” Steve’s still got his hands in Danny’s hair, and he pulls him in, not very gently, for a kiss that’s mostly teeth. “Please don’t stop.”

Danny adjusts his position so it’s less awkward, grabs the lube from Steve and adds more before pulling his finger almost all the way out, twisting as he goes, then rubbing a second finger just barely inside as he pushes back in with the first. He stops, only half way in.

“If she was persuasive, why’d you only admit you wanted to kiss me now?”

He’s half up on one knee, and he’s got Steve perfectly in his sights. He could lean forward and kiss him, or slip back and focus on his work at the other end. As it is, he’s hovering in between, finger poised and unmoving, and he knows he’s driving Steve crazy.

The look on Steve’s face is worth everything. It’s partly blown with longing, partly pained with regret, and one hundred percent utterly open and unreservedly saying _I’m yours_.

“Because, Danny. I’m a coward and a fool.”

Danny slides the finger in, crooking it as he goes, leaning forward at the same time to capture those words with his own lips and soothe some of the hurt. Steve bites back at his lips, breaths coming sharply, pulling on Danny’s hair, as if he’s trying to get him closer, pull him inside.

“I’m going to put a second finger in, babe,” Danny manages between allowing Steve to take what he needs from his lips, his mouth, loving the rough tug on his hair, feeling Steve’s frantic need fill him.

“Yes, please,” Steve pants, and as Danny does it turns into a low sound, something primal and filled with longing.

Danny slowly starts moving his fingers, easing Steve into it. The hold on his hair releases, and he’s being grabbed more desperately, more flailingly, and Danny tries to still him with his other hand, pull him closer, cradling Steve’s head close to his own so he can whisper, directly into his ear: “Not today, but soon, I’m going to put my dick in you... I want to come inside you, do you want that?” And he’s hardly finished the words when Steve convulses on a muffled yelp, and neither of them has much left, but he pulses weakly and Danny carefully withdraws his fingers, adds “ _I’ll take that as yes_ ,” and kisses Steve down from his shock.

He’s not sure how long he holds him, but eventually he feels safe getting up to grab a washcloth, and as he cleans up, Steve’s watching him, eyes slightly bleary, body draped across the bed—sated, yes, but maybe a little too much so. A little raw, perhaps—as Danny is as well. Emotionally, if not also physically. (Probably physically as well, he’ll remember that last fast fuck in the morning, he’s sure of it.)

But there’s also something that’s in between the two. Something more practical, something of the realism of their lives, how and where and when they intersect, and how this, in bed, will intersect with that. They’ve talked through some of it already, but there’s so much more they haven’t, and they need to. More for Steve’s sake than his own, he thinks. He’s mindful of where Steve’s own anxieties and worries and panic might begin to creep in, and he wants, so very much, to keep that from happening, as much as he possibly can—he knows he won’t be able to stop it all, but he thinks, if he does it well, he can prevent a good bit of it, or at least ease it. And he wants to give Steve that. Maybe not even from a romantic partner’s perspective, but from a best friend’s, and his partner of eight years.

There will be things that will be easy, things that won’t even need addressing, in part because of that already close connection. But Danny’s not going to kid either himself or Steve that this will be all cake—and on that note he realizes they didn’t have any, and his face must fall, because Steve reacts.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“We didn’t make the cake, we didn’t do anything for your birthday....”

The sun is down by this point, the moon is rising, nearly full in the sky. It’s late but not that late, but he’s bone tired. Spent. Wants only to curl up at Steve’s side and simply rest for now, sleep the deep dreamless sleep that comes as a reward for the utterly satisfied.

“First of all, we did plenty for my birthday, Danny. And, I’d much rather have _you_ than cake,” Steve says as he grabs Danny’s hand and gets him to fall next to him, scooting over and tucking Danny at his side, pulling his ass against him, holding on tight to his chest, and nuzzling his stubbled face against Danny’s neck. “But if you want to make me cake for breakfast, you can do that, as long as I can hold you from behind like you did me today.”

Danny sighs into the embrace, lets his mind stop for the day, and thinks about cake batter pancakes and the can of whipped cream that’s in the fridge next to the fresh strawberries, and he thinks morning-after breakfast sex will be a nice continuation of Steve’s birthday weekend.

“Well, in that case,” he says to Steve’s hand as he brings it up to kiss it, then hold it over his heart. “Happy Birthday, babe.”


End file.
